


Devil in the Details

by Selenay



Series: The Demon and the Librarian [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Consequences, Demon Clint Barton, Librarian Phil Coulson, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9005026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/pseuds/Selenay
Summary: Rescuing a demon from hell always has consequences, but at least these consequences are ones Phil can manage. He hopes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to chaneen for beta-ing this. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> And thank you to all the people who have been waiting for the conclusion to this series. I promise, there are only two more stories to go and you'll be getting them very, very soon.

Silence filled the casting room, heavy and cold. Phil lay where he'd fallen when he plunged out of hell: flat on his back with Clint sprawled on top of him, his arms and legs wrapped around the demon, but leaving a lot of red flesh on view to the man lurking in the doorway.

All Phil could think of to say, in that important moment, was, "...Um."

With Nick Fury glaring down at him, that seemed pathetic. Possibly the most pathetic response he'd ever managed, and that included the day he'd greeted the sight of Darcy tangled in Steve's puppets--he'd never asked how that happened, it seemed safer--with a soft, "Oh dear."

Darcy had spent the rest of the day calling him Giles. Phil had borrowed the library's entire run of Buffy and spent two weeks researching the reference. He'd concluded that being compared to a librarian with a side-line in magic and some good fighting moves (after the producers stopped knocking him out every other episode) wasn't a bad thing.

It was probably far more complimentary than anything Nick might be about to say, judging from the way his eye was narrowing.

"What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?" Nick repeated.

Phil tried to imagine how this looked from the outside. His t-shirt was torn and covered with red sand. There were probably red smears on his skin, too, and he had to stink by now. And, just in case that wasn't bad enough, he was currently intimately wrapped around a nearly-naked demon, whose only clothing was a ragged pair of purple silk boxers.

The fact that the wrapping situation was a direct result of falling through a portal and dragging the demon with him probably wasn't something anyone would guess just from looking at them. It probably looked more like he'd materialised in the centre of his summoning circle, in the middle of getting much friendlier with a demon than any human should.

He'd actually been friendlier than this with Clint. Or with Clint's tail, anyway.

This was not the right time to think about overly-friendly tails.

Phil frowned. Hold on.

His summoning circle?

Nick Fury was leaning over them, his glare intensifying, in Phil's private casting room under the library?

"I think you and I both have some explaining to do," Phil said, before he could think twice about making such a reckless statement.

Nick crossed his arms over his chest. "You don't say."

And, of course, that was when Clint decided to lift his head and groan.

Unfortunately, the difference between Clint's pained groans and his...other...groans were probably not obvious to the untrained ear. Phil's ear was trained. He tried not to think about how it had been trained, but the groan was definitely an unhappy, pained one.

Nick's ear wasn't trained. His eye narrowed even more. "I'll be waiting outside for that explanation."

With a swirl of his long black coat, he stalked away. Phil groaned.

"That was not a happy groan," Clint said. "I'm starting to be an expert. What's wrong?"

Phil closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was somewhere else.

***

Every muscle hurt when Phil finally tried to untangle himself from Clint and sit up. It wasn't an easy task; Clint seemed perfectly content to stay right where he was, and when he did allow himself to be prodded into movement, he was unusually clumsy and uncoordinated. The untangling procedure required a lot more touching and bare skin than Phil felt was entirely unnecessary.

A lot of intimate touching.

Phil removed Clint's tail from where it was trying to get intimately acquainted with the waistband of his jeans.

"Aw, tail," Clint said.

Phil snorted.

"I was tortured," Clint said. "They threatened to cut it off. It's just looking for somewhere safe to hide."

"Inside my pants?"

Clint shrugged. "If it feels safer in there..."

"It's your appendage," Phil said. "That means it's under your control."

"And I find your pants very safe," Clint said. "Hey, maybe we could both--"

"No," Phil said. Clint opened his mouth, and Phil held up a finger. "No. No flirting, no innuendos, no sexually explicit suggestions. Not until we've talked properly."

Clint's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't sound like fun."

"The last time you made a solid bid to get inside my pants, you almost killed yourself on the wards when you tried to run away. We need to talk about that."

"Yeah, well, you said shit that nobody has a right to say when a demon's trying to get laid, okay?"

Phil sighed. "That's my point. Seeing your face when we have sex didn't seem like a particularly odd request."

"Yeah? Shows what you know about demons." Clint frowned and seemed to deflate into himself. "Not that I'm actually a demon, I guess."

The sudden lack of resistance allowed Phil to escape from Clint's clinging arms and tail and roll onto his knees outside the circle. It didn't feel like a victory, though. It felt like he lost something as soon as they weren't touching.

Clint remained in the circle, sitting with his knees drawn up to his chest and his tail wrapped around his ankles. He seemed to hunch in on himself, his expression too blank to read.

"You didn't know about your heritage before?" Phil asked.

"Guess it never came up. Seems like everyone else did." Clint rested his chin on his knees. "You did."

"Natasha told me. She thought it might be something I'd need to know, to get you out."

"I can see that."

"I think she might have thought it would give me some extra motivation to get you out fast," Phil said. "I didn't actually need any."

"Yeah?"

"Your heritage will make it easier to keep you out," Phil said. "Possibly. I'm going to need to do some research on that. But I would have come after you anyway."

Clint tilted his head, studying him. Phil lifted his chin slightly and tried to look as honest as he could.

"You really would," Clint said after a while, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yes."

"I'm not used to that."

"People rescuing you?"

"No." Clint frowned. "Well, yeah. Normally I do the rescuing after someone summons me. But not that. I'm not used to people...caring about me."

"Is it a problem?"

"I'm not sure yet. Can I get back to you on that?"

"Maybe it's something we can talk about later." Phil offered him a small smile. "When we talk about the other thing."

"Ugh, feelings. I hate them."

Phil allowed his smile to widen. "They definitely make life complicated."

Clint's attention flickered to the door. "Don't you have a boss to explain shit to?"

"I'm not sure."

"Whether you need to explain stuff?"

"Whether he's still my boss." Phil sighed and leaned forward to place his hand palm down on the floor, over the scorched edge of the summoning circle, breaking it open temporarily. "Come on, you don't have to stay there while I do that."

Clint eyed the circle warily. "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Let a demon out without a leash."

"Do you plan to eviscerate anyone?"

"Not right now, but habits are hard to break. I might get a sudden craving. You should probably put me back in the cuffs."

Phil glanced down at Clint's wrists, which were still raw and bloody from the manacles he'd been chained in. The cuffs were a solid weight in his jeans pocket, but the thought of putting one on over Clint's torn flesh made his skin crawl.

"It's not going to hurt that much," Clint said. "I've felt worse. Fuck, they flayed me a couple of times, right at the beginning. Now, that hurts."

There weren't any scars on his back. Phil frowned. "How long were you there?"

"I don't know. It got kind of hazy for a while there. A couple of weeks? Maybe more? I heal fast."

"It was only a couple of days up here."

"Yeah, that happens. Time's funny down there." Clint wiggled his fingers. "So, cuff? It's not like it'll make things worse, right?"

"Right," Phil said dully. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver bands. Snapping one onto his wrist was easy, but when he tried to reach out to put the other one on Clint's wrist, he couldn't do it. He couldn't look at the puffy, torn skin and fasten something around it, even though he knew the cuff probably wouldn't hurt as much as the manacles had. "Wait there. I have an idea."

"I'm not actually going anywhere," Clint muttered, as Phil stood and hurried away.

Nick was sitting in Phil's office chair, glaring at Phil's computer screen. Phil decided he didn't want to know how Nick had found a way through his passwords into his emails. It wasn't as though he'd ever used his library address for anything personal, anyway, so it shouldn't matter.

As Phil entered the room, Nick spun around in the chair and opened his mouth. Phil lifted one finger and glared at him.

It was a surprise when it worked. Nick folded his arms and glowered, but didn't say anything.

Phil grabbed the first aid kit from one of his filing cabinets and gestured with it. "There's a thing I have to do."

With a grudging grunt, Nick waved him away, and Phil nodded.

Back in the summoning room, Phil knelt halfway into the circle and put the kit down next to him. Clint should be able to see that he'd broken the circle again, that he could leave if he really wanted to, but he didn't say anything. Not talking about important things seemed to be a theme lately.

Phil rifled through the kit, pulling out bandages and antiseptic cream.

"What are you doing?" Clint asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Yeah, see, that's the problem. It looks like you're planning to do something really fucking stupid, like clean up my owies, and that's pretty pointless, right? I'm a demon. I'll heal. Probably way faster than you would."

Phil opened a package of gauze and dampened it with some distilled water. "You're partially human, so you might not heal as fast as you're used to now that you're up here. And I'm not going to leave you like that, just because you say that you can tolerate it. Is that clear?"

Clint didn't move for a long moment. His blue eyes seemed fixed on Phil's, searching for something that Phil hoped he would find. It hadn't escaped Phil's attention that Clint hadn't conjured up his human disguise yet.

"I guess you can do it," Clint said, dropping his gaze to stare at his wrist. "It does kind of sting a little."

Reluctantly, Clint held out one hand, and Phil smiled his thanks. He worked as gently as he could, cleaning the wound and smearing cream on it, but Clint still sucked in a sharp breath every now and then. He repeated the procedure on Clint's other wrist, too, and his heart ached a little more with every gasp Clint tried to suppress.

The bandages were soft, and caught on rough patches on Phil's fingers as he wrapped each wrist with care. Clint's shoulders slowly lost their hunched posture as he worked, as though the care Phil was demonstrating allowed some of the misery to flow away. Phil deliberately brushed the soft, delicate skin above the wounds, just because it made Clint shiver and catch his breath in a way that definitely had nothing to do with pain.

The white bandages stood out against Clint's red skin, but he still made no attempt to hide in his human illusion yet.

Phil lingered over bandaging the second wrist, wrapping the gauze as slowly as he could and smoothing it down with fingers that weren't completely steady. He tucked the end under and brushed his thumb over the undamaged flesh just above the line of bandages.

Clint's head shot up, and his gaze locked with Phil's.

With slow deliberation, Phil traced a line along the heel of Clint's hand and up his thumb.

Clint pulled in a sharp breath.

Phil trailed his thumb down Clint's, touch feather-light, and Clint wetted his lips.

Without letting his gaze drop from Clint's face, Phil lifted Clint's hand and brushed his lips over Clint's fingertips. He planted a dry kiss at the base of Clint's thumb.

Clint made a soft sound at the back of his throat.

Phil turned Clint's hand over and started to lift it to his mouth, but Clint shook his head. "You don't know where it's been. Trust me. You want to stop there."

"All right," Phil said easily.

The slow touches had distracted Clint enough for Phil's purposes, anyway. The unhappy twist to Clint's lips was gone and his shoulders weren't hunched so tightly that they made Phil's head hurt in sympathy. As Phil pulled his hands away from Clint's, he left the silver cuff hooked over Clint's fingers.

Clint looked down, his eyebrows rising. "Sneaky. You've got the sleight of hand stuff down."

"I am a magician."

"I guess you are." Clint held up the cuff, looking through it with one eye. "So, you didn't put it on me."

"I'm not sure you need it."

Clint shrugged, uncurling further to sit up cross-legged, elbows resting on his knees. He didn't seem to be aware that he was fiddling with the cuff, opening and closing it without letting the clasp snap completely shut. "I think I need it. I'm not one hundred percent demon, I guess, but I'm not totally human either, am I? Right now I don't have any big plans for a slaughter in Times Square, but who knows what I'll want tomorrow? I might go on some kind of rampage, and you won't have any way to stop me, because it's not like you can send me back unless I want to go."

"Clint--"

"And if you're about to give me some kind of speech about how much you trust me," Clint said, glaring, "you can shut the fuck up right there. Doesn't matter whether you trust me or not. Point is, I don't trust me. I might have some human blood in me, but I still think like a demon. That kind of shit sticks."

Phil pursed his lips while he thought. He was sure that Clint wouldn't go on any kind of murderous rampage tomorrow, but Clint didn't know that about himself. Not yet. The cuff was a security blanket for him, no matter how much he chafed against its restrictions. It kept the world safe from him, even if the world didn't really need it.

"If you're sure," was all Phil said.

"I'm sure. See how sure I am?"

Clint snapped the cuff closed over his wrist, around the fine white bandages. There was a small flare of heat around Phil's wrist as the magic linking the cuffs activated, but it didn't hurt. Judging by Clint's expression, it hadn't hurt him, either.

"Give me an order," Clint said. "Just to make sure."

Phil nodded. "Don't kill anyone, unless I say you can."

Clint screwed up his nose, looking almost constipated, and released a heartfelt sigh. "Thanks. That hurts, but it's the good kind of hurt, you know?"

"I'm not sure I do, but I'll take your word for it."

"Got any more rules for me?" Clint asked, a wan smile appearing. "Might as well get it over with while I'm not hating it."

Phil thought carefully. "No magic in the library, unless I say you can."

"Got it."

"No hurting or killing people unless I say you can."

"Done."

"Don't take any further orders from me unless I preface them with 'Clint I order you...'."

Clint's eyes went wide. "Shit, Phil, that's--"

"I don't want to accidentally give you any more orders," Phil said, before Clint could raise any objections. "I don't want to hurt you with a badly worded request for cereal. Or force you to do something you really don't want to, just because I forgot to make something a suggestion in the heat of the moment."

"Like having sex?"

"I wasn't thinking of that specifically," Phil said, trying to pretend his ears hadn't suddenly become very warm.

"But the thought crossed your mind."

"You have the right to say no."

"You could still force me."

"I wouldn't," Phil said. "I promise you that."

Clint titled his head. "I think I believe you."

"Good."

Phil busied himself with tidying up the first aid kit and balling up the used packaging. The amazed gratitude in Clint's eyes was too much to look at. It was like trying to stare into the sun, and Phil didn't want to get blinded.

Clint cleared his throat. "Um, shouldn't you get out there? Before Fury decides he's waited long enough and marches in here? Pretty sure I should be staying on the down low right now, so him seeing me again probably wouldn't be a great idea."

Phil nodded. "I should. Get out there, I mean."

He stood and broke the summoning circle with his foot, raising his eyebrows. There was only a brief hesitation this time, before Clint rose and stepped outside it.

"I'll just...wait," Clint said, moving to stand in a corner. "Here. Okay?"

Phil wanted to reach out and touch him, maybe pull him into a comforting hug, but this wasn't the right time, and the last thing he needed right now was Fury walking in to find him wrapped around a half-naked demon.

Again.

"Wish me luck?" he said instead.

Clint's smile looked forced, but it was the effort that mattered. "Good luck. Not that you'll need it. What's the worst he could do?"

"Fire me?"

"You've got a demon in your corner," Clint said. "It's not like you need the money."

Phil rolled his eyes. "My answer is still no."

Clint pouted.

"And if he fired me," Phil continued, "I'd lose access to all this. No more casting room. Most of the books I've been using would be inaccessible."

"Do you need them? I'm not going back, and you can't make me."

"I wasn't planning to send you back. But we have to shut down the other summoners in the city, if you're going to really be safe. I need resources for that."

Clint sighed. "I guess you have a point."

"I usually do."

***

Fury had moved from reading Phil's emails to browsing the library catalogue by the time Phil returned to his office. He couldn't make out which part of the catalogue was on the screen, but he had a suspicion it was probably the occult section. At least he could claim that had already existed when he arrived, although it probably hadn't been as well-organised before.

Phil cleared his throat, and Fury slowly spun around to face him. Even though Fury was sitting and Phil was standing, it was easy to feel who was boss in the room. It wasn't Phil.

"Are you ready to tell me why the fuck you've got a demon back there?" Fury asked.

"I'm still not sure about that myself," Phil said.

"You know, he looks a lot like your shelving assistant intern," Fury said. "The free one, who's been sleeping on your couch for the last couple of months." Fury's eye narrowed. "Please, don't tell me if he wasn't sleeping on your couch."

"He was sleeping on my couch," Phil said, trying to push all memories away of the one night Clint hadn't been on the couch. "It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't like what?"

Phil crossed his arms over his chest and waited, plastering on his blandest expression.

After a long moment, Fury snorted. "You're really telling me that you've had a demon under your control for all that time, and it wasn't like that?"

"I'm really telling you that."

"I don't know whether to believe you, or send you to get your head examined."

Phil sighed. "It wasn't like that, either. I didn't ask him for anything. I didn't let him do much for me."

"Much?"

"He helped with the occult section catalogue. And there was a hell hound incident that he was useful for."

"Huh. He clearly didn't give you any money, at least," Fury said.

Phil glanced down at the jeans and stained t-shirt he was still wearing, and shrugged. "I didn't let him."

"I don't think I've ever seen you not wearing a suit before."

"It didn't seem like practical attire for where I went."

Fury's gaze turned sharp. "Hell?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I..." For the first time, Phil found himself at a loss for words. Confessing to Clint and Natasha that he needed to rescue Clint had been easy. Admitting it to a man like Fury, who was staring at him with a sharp challenge in his eye, was much more difficult. It might be the thing that pushed Fury over the edge, and Phil had always thought that an angry Fury would be a terrible thing to see. Except, if Phil didn't tell the truth, he suspected it would only make things worse. Fury would know, he just would, and he clearly knew a lot more about the magical world than he'd let on. More than just Phil's career was on the line right now.

"Well?"

"I had to bring Clint back," Phil said, as evenly as he could manage.

"You went to Hell. To rescue a demon."

"Yes."

"And you really expect me to believe that your relationship with the demon was innocent?"

Phil could feel heat crawling up his face. "He's not a full demon. He's half-human. Natasha wasn't entirely clear on how it works, but after he's been away from Hell for a while, his demon side isn't as dominant."

"Natasha?" Fury's eye widened. "Another demon? Jesus fuck, Phil, how many demons have you summoned?"

"Only two!"

"What were you thinking, doing something that stupid?"

Phil lifted his chin. "And how do you know about all of this, anyway? You didn't just wander into my casting room. I put wards on it." 

"Your casting room?"

"Is the ownership of the casting room really that important right now?"

Fury waved the question away. "I hired you because I thought you'd stay away from all this shit. You have a reputation for staying on the light side. Domestic and protection, that's your gig. After the last head of this library, it seemed like a good idea."

Phil sputtered for a moment, before words flowed out faster than he could think them. "You knew? You hired me because I was _safe_? You know where my predecessor went? Don't you think you could have warned me about what this library is?"

"I didn't think it was necessary. Phil Coulson does not raise demons. He does not consort with most of the magical community. That's what I hired."

"And that makes me some kind of powerless eunuch, in your eyes?"

Fury chuckled. "I've seen your demon. If you haven't even thought about touching him, then it looks like the shoe fits."

Phil's face felt hotter, and Fury's smile widened.

"I didn't think so," Fury said.

"That's not the point."

"I think Clint is the point," Fury said. "I hired you because you wouldn't get mixed up in all that shit, and it turns out you've been hiding a demon right under my nose for weeks. And you summoned another one. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I didn't set out to summon a demon," Phil said. 

"I know the rituals. Accidentally summoning a demon isn't that easy."

"I was trying to prove that demon summoning was impossible."

Fury rubbed a hand down his face. "You tried to prove it was impossible, by summoning a demon."

"Yes."

"That's...I don't even know where to start with that."

Phil sighed and allowed his shoulders to drop. "On reflection, it does seem a little...poorly thought out."

"You think?"

There was a noise behind Phil, a soft patter of feet. He didn't turn, mostly because he didn't want to confirm that a nearly-naked demon was standing right behind him. He didn't need to; he could feel the body heat.

"In his defence," Clint said, "he summoned an imp. He just got luckier than he expected."

"Luckier," Fury said flatly.

"Yeah, luckier."

Phil didn't have to glance back to know that Clint was tilting his chin up defensively. He'd watched Clint do it too many times. He didn't need to look back, but he did it anyway, and the sight made his ears feel hot. At some stage, the blushing might actually become terminal and set his head on fire.

Fury made shook his head. "I wouldn't describe it that way, but I'm not about to start arguing with a demon. I've read too much to think that's a good idea."

"It can be frustrating to try," Phil said.

"I haven't finished with you yet," Fury said. "Stop sounding relieved, and start explaining. From the beginning. I want to know what you were thinking and what kind of trouble you've brought down on us."

***

Phil's throat was sore by the time he finished. He hadn't left out any important details. A few minor, inconsequential details--like the part where he'd kissed Clint and got a little more intimate with his tail than Fury would approve of--but no major ones.

Phil's legs and back were aching, too, but Fury's expression didn't invite him to sit down. Clint had interrupted a few times to clarify points, such as the exact nature of a hell hound, and Fury's glare had grown sharper with each interruption. Phil was fairly sure it was at least partly because Clint was still standing around in his full demonic glory, only a few scraps of tattered purple silk covering his...dignity.

He was much too aware of that fact, actually, which probably explained why he'd stuttered every time Clint spoke up. The stammering would have been embarrassing at the best of times. Right now? Phil wanted to shrink a little more each time he choked on a word.

He was pretty sure Fury knew that, judging by the way he kept rolling his eyes. Somehow, the eye rolling was worse than the glaring.

A part of Phil wanted to remind Fury that he wasn't the only person who had held back some important information, but in the grand scheme of things, Fury's omissions were probably less damaging than Phil's. At least Fury hadn't done something that could easily have resulted in a bloody stinking mess. Literally.

All things considered, Phil probably got lucky when Clint slipped through instead of something worse.

Phil tried to rephrase that thought and quickly gave up.

Fury sat back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. His brows drew down. His eye narrowed.

Phil braced himself. He didn't look back to find out what Clint was doing.

"I don't know whether I'm impressed or terrified," Fury said. "You went to Hell to drag back a demon. You raised the demon in the first place, and then you went to get him back. And in the process, you learned that the little demon cult that everyone has been trying to ignore, against my advice, might actually be on the verge of causing some kind of apocalypse by bringing one of the most powerful monsters into our plane without properly containing him. Is that accurate?"

Phil quickly reviewed everything he'd explained. When it was all put together like that, it sounded a lot more mind-numbingly terrifying than he'd comprehended. His worries had mostly been about whether Clint was safe.

Possibly his focus had grown too narrow lately.

He frowned. "That does sound accurate."

"You seem surprised."

"I'm tired," Phil said. "I hadn't put all the pieces together yet."

"You do look like shit," Fury said. "I'm amazed you're standing, after walking through that place."

"How long was I gone?"

"By my reckoning? A day. How long did it feel like to you?"

"Forever," Phil said. "And a day. Forever and a day."

"It's late," Fury said. "It should be safe for you to sneak out now. Everyone should have gone home. I told them that I'd lock up."

Phil nodded. The exhaustion was crashing down on him again, and the thought of dealing with his staff, with Darcy's bounciness and Steve's earnest worry, made every fibre of his being want to melt into a puddle of exhausted nope. 

That thought caught at something that had been niggling at the back of his mind ever since Fury admitted he knew about Phil's casting.

"The rest of the staff," Phil said. "Are any of them...talented?"

"You mean, did I load up this library with magic users just in case?" Fury's smiled reminded Phil of sharks. "Not all of them. But you've got a few. They don't know that I know--they think they're better at hiding than they are--and they don't know about each other yet, but Thor's a weather wizard. Darcy has some hedge witch powers that could use a mentor to develop. Steve has some tricks with his puppets that would make me think twice about going up against him."

"Sitwell?"

"He's exactly what he looks like. No more power than your stapler."

"That's strangely comforting."

Fury stood. "If you're right, and we're about to face a demon invasion, I'd be more comforted if Sitwell had some kind of power. We're massively outgunned and outnumbered, even if I bring your people into it. They've all been hiding their powers for years, so I'm not counting on that."

"What are you doing?" Phil asked.

"I've got people to see." Fury nodded behind Phil. "You've got a demon to deal with, and I suggest you both get home and get some sleep. I've seen your wards. I know how good they are. If anything rises before we get geared up, your apartment is the safest place to be in this city."

Phil blinked. "You're just going to let us go?"

"I've got bigger fish to fry right now," Fury said. "And something tells me that I'll need both of you at full strength if we're going to fix the mess I allowed to grow in my damn city."

He swept out before Phil could say anything more, leaving Phil gaping after him and appreciating, for the first time, how useful a really good leather coat could be for making a dramatic exit.

***

When Phil turned around, Clint was standing in the entrance to the casting room, leaning against the doorframe in a way that was anything but casual. His shoulders were too high and a muscle in his jaw was twitching.

"Ready to go home?" Phil asked.

Clint shrugged one shoulder. "I don't have one anymore."

"Of course you do," Phil said. "With me." 

"Really?"

"Really. If you want, that is."

"No! I want. I really want." Clint cocked his head. "I'm just...you don't have to feel obligated. I mean, if you're sick of having a demon on your couch, I can find somewhere else. It's not like I'm about to head out on a murderous rampage the moment your back's turned--you've made sure of that already."

"Clint, I--"

"And I appreciate that," Clint added quickly. "No shit, I appreciate it. Not that I actually want to go on a slaughter right now, but you never know when old habits'll get...habitual, you know?"

Phil allowed himself a small smile. "I'm glad you approve."

"Best order anyone's given me for a long time." An echo of that wondering amazement returned to Clint's eyes. "Okay, maybe second best."

Phil felt his smile widen, and somehow he found himself speaking before he could think through the consequences. "You don't have to sleep on my couch, though. Not if you don't want to."

Clint swallowed audibly. "Oh."

"Not that I'm ordering you to...it's your choice where you...I don't expect..." Phil gave up, took a deep breath, and tried again. It shouldn't be this difficult to proposition a demon who'd been seductively flirting with him for weeks.

Then again, the demon in question had been thrown so much by feelings--his or Phil's, it was difficult to work out--that he'd bounced off the wards. So maybe there was a good reason to be nervous and tongue-tied.

"If you want to stay on the couch, I'll understand," Phil said. "Maybe you could help me clear out the guest bedroom and put a bed in there. I just meant that the couch isn't something you have to do, if you don't want to. There's another option."

"An option that would mean talking?" Clint said.

"Probably."

Clint shifted against the doorframe, and Phil very definitely wasn't looking at the flexing, twitching muscles behind the movement. He locked his gaze on Clint's face and refused to look down.

Much.

"Would the talking have to be tonight?" Clint asked. "Because I'm tired, and you look beyond tired, and I'm thinking we shouldn't talk when we can't make sense anymore."

"It doesn't have to be," Phil said, slowly.

"Could we do the no couch thing tonight and then do the talking thing tomorrow?"

There was such a hopeful, pathetic look in Clint's eyes that Phil couldn't say no. "We could do that, if you can keep your tail under control."

The tail in question twitched against Clint's ankle. "Um."

"Not that I minded the tail last time," Phil said. "But maybe we should agree that anything else is off the menu until we've talked?"

A small, mischievous smile curled Clint's lips. "So, my tail can do what it wants, but the rest of me stays strictly PG until we've talked. I can work with that."

Phil had a feeling this probably wasn't the compromise he'd planned, but it was making Clint look happier, so he couldn't do anything apart from rolling his eyes and nodding.

"Want me to get us home the fast way?" Clint asked, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. "It would be a lot safer than taking the subway."

"Are you sure about that?" Phil asked. "Where do you take us, anyway?"

Clint's face fell. "Um. Shit. Yeah, good point. Maybe not safer. Maybe all the humans on the subway would be safer."

Phil thought about asking, and decided against it immediately. He really didn't want to know. "Maybe they would be."

Phil waited. After a long pause, Clint frowned. "What?"

"You can't go out looking like that," Phil said, waving his hand in a way that, he hoped, encompassed the entire naked, red, and tail-twitching problem.

Clint looked down. "Huh. Yeah. Probably can't."

Phil waited, but nothing happened. Eventually, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"No magic in the library," Clint said. "You keep making that rule. Kind of difficult to magic up some clothes and look human without it."

"Oh." Phil frowned. "I can make an exception."

There was another pause, while Clint looked expectantly at him, and Phil tried to figure out what he was waiting for.

"I need the words, Phil," Clint said.

Understanding dawned. 

Phil blamed the exhaustion making him struggle to think. It definitely had to be that. "Clint, I order you to ignore the no magic in the library rule when you need to change appearance."

A shimmer like sun on hot tarmac surrounded Clint. When it faded away, he was dressed like a reject from a motorcycle gang, but at least he looked human. Phil realised, with a start, that he missed the horns peeking out from his spiky hair and the red skin.

And the tail, obviously, but he tried not to think about the tail.

"Do I look okay?" Clint asked.

"You look very nice."

"Wow, that's a ringing endorsement."

Phil busied himself with shutting down the computer and checking to make sure Fury hadn't broken into his snack drawer while he muttered, "I miss the tail."

He was pretty sure Clint heard and chuckled, but he chose not to think about it.

***

Phil woke slowly, hours later. Sleep was still dragging at him, trying to pull him down into the warm darkness that his body needed, but there was another need pulling him into consciousness. A heavy, aching need, burning low in his gut and sending delicious tingles radiating out into the rest of his body.

Making his hips move without conscious direction.

His brain was still sleep-fogged, but not so cotton-filled that he could pretend not to feel the light touches of a smooth, familiar tail-tip, teasing at the waistband of his sleep pants.

He debated with himself for longer than was probably necessary--it really did feel good--before reaching down and lifting the tail away from his waist. It immediately curled around his wrist instead, and Clint made a low, satisfied noise and rolled closer, burying his face against the back of Phil's neck. The tip of Clint's nose was cold.

His tail seemed content to stay where it was, wrapped around Phil's wrist and forearm, and Phil didn't mind being spooned by a sleepy demon. It was oddly...nice, actually.

The needy aching slowly melted away, allowing sleep to sweep in and pull him down into her waiting arms. He didn't wake again for a long time.

***

When Phil woke next, he felt watched.

He wasn't sure what time it was, but it felt later than he usually allowed himself to sleep. Every muscle ached and the soft t-shirt he'd worn to bed was irritating against his sunburned skin, but the long sleep seemed to have cured most of the bone-deep exhaustion. In fact, he felt warm and content, despite the aches and pains and the sensation of eyes on him.

Phil turned his head on the pillow, unsurprised to find Clint propped up with his head on his hand. Watching.

"Have you been awake long?" Phil asked.

"Who said I slept?" Clint asked. "Demons don't need sleep."

Phil fixed him with an unimpressed look. "We both know that's a lie."

It was difficult to tell whether Clint blushed. His red skin and the dim light disguised it. "Maybe I slept for a while. It's the human half of me."

"I suppose it's the human half that snores, too?"

"Probably."

Clint was wearing an old, faded t-shirt that Phil recognised from the back of his drawer. It was too tight across Clint's shoulders, but Phil definitely wasn't complaining about the way the fabric stretched over his muscles.

A few days ago, he might have complained about the clothing theft. Now he thought he understood. Or he hoped so, anyway. He hoped that Clint had stolen the shirt because it was Phil's, and not because he was trying to be an annoying shit.

"How do you feel?" Phil asked.

Clint shrugged one shoulder. "I'm fine. No permanent damage done."

Phil lifted one eyebrow. "Really?"

"Shut up."

"Natasha warned me that they'd be cruel, and you didn't seem to believe that I was really there when I first arrived."

"Didn't believe it was really you until we escaped," Clint said. "Illusions are kind of our speciality."

"You flirted with an illusion?"

"Hey, when you think you're going to die, you flirt with whatever you can get." Clint grinned. "You didn't seem to mind."

"I didn't know you thought I was an illusion," Phil said. "It explains a few things."

"Yeah?"

Phil fought the covers for a moment, which had become hopelessly tangled around his shoulders, and eventually managed to sit up. He shifted to face Clint, legs crossed and arms braced on his knees. The cool air of the bedroom raised goose bumps on his arms and back, but he resisted the temptation to burrow down under the covers again. If they were both awake, he knew exactly where that would go.

Clint sighed. "You were serious about that talk, then."

"I was serious."

"How about if I--"

"Clint," Phil said firmly. "You panicked about the idea of having sex with your real face on. That's not something I can easily forget, so whatever you're about to suggest...don't."

Clint flopped onto his back and closed his eyes. "Bastard."

"Is talking really that bad?"

"Can't we just skip it, say we did it, and go straight to the sex part?"

"Are you going to freak out if we have sex without putting an illusion on you?"

Clint flipped him off.

"I'm not sure how to interpret that," Phil said. "Was that a yes, you're going to freak out, or..."

"Can't we just...forget I did that?" Clint said. "You caught me off guard. Nobody ever says shit like that to me. Demons don't do feelings."

Phil snorted. "Good thing you're only part demon, then."

"You think I've got feelings?"

"I think," Phil said, "that you wouldn't have reacted like that if you didn't. The fact that you did, gives me hope."

Clint opened one eye. "It does?"

"It does."

"Why?"

Phil reached out and caught Clint's hand, holding it between his own and chafing it when he noticed how cold it was. Maybe Clint hadn't been lying when he said that demons got cold. Or maybe it was his half-human side waking up again. The room wasn't particularly warm, and most of the covers had migrated to Phil's side of the bed while they slept.

He lifted the hand to his mouth and kissed Clint's knuckles, a burst of unexpected happiness rushing through him when Clint's breath hitched. "It gives me hope because I've grown...fond of you. Sex is about more than biology, for me, and I don't sleep with people when the feelings are one-sided."

Clint opened his other eye, and stared at Phil with an unreadable expression. "You have feelings. For me."

"Yes."

"I'm still part demon."

"I know."

"That doesn't worry you?"

Phil smiled ruefully. "I had feelings before I knew there was any human blood in you."

"Oh."

"Although, it's possible that I realised there was something different about you," Phil said. "You didn't seem as unrepentantly evil as the books said demons were supposed to be."

"Hey, I tried!" Clint protested. "I was really good at evil. You should have seen some of the things I did in the past." He paused to consider that. "Uh, maybe not."

"I'm sure you did your best," Phil said. "I've met some full demons now. You're not like them."

"I'm pretty sure nobody's like Natasha," Clint said, a hint of pride threading through his voice. "She makes most demons shit themselves."

"I did get that impression. She seems to like you, though. In her way."

"I guess."

"So, demons aren't entirely incapable of having feelings," Phil said. "Otherwise, why would Natasha have helped me?"

"She owed me a debt."

"So she said." Phil squeezed Clint's hand. "There were easier ways for her to repay that, I'm sure. She chose to rescue you."

Clint shrugged.

"So," Phil said, "maybe your feelings aren't entirely from your human side. Maybe they're part of both sides."

"If I admit that I have feelings," Clint said, "does that mean I finally get to have sex with you?"

"Will you run off if I have feelings around you, possibly while we're having sex?"

"We can find out," Clint said, hopefully. "Right now. Let's find out."

"You're sure it's something you want? This isn't because demons are supposed to want this?"

Clint's lips flattened and he stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, barely seeming to breathe. "When we first met, yeah, offering sex was part of the demon shtick. We're supposed to sell ourselves: put humans into our debt for our power, or money, or whatever. But...if you'd said yes when I offered back then? It wouldn't have been me that you had sex with. I'm a demon. I've got ways to make you believe pretty much anything, if you want it hard enough. Most humans making that kind of deal just want sex--with someone they can't have or someone they hate--so the body doesn't matter. It's the face that's important to them. I can give them a wild night with a thing that looks like the person they want, and they never have to touch me."

Phil nodded, trying not to display the faint sense of horror lurking at the back of his mind. It shouldn't have shocked him, what people would do if they were given the chance.

"So sex isn't something I do all the time," Clint said. "Not for real, anyway. Not that I'm not good at it, obviously. I'm very good. Really, really, really good. Just, in case you were worried. Got to be good to make the illusion real, you know?"

Phi's throat was dry, so all he could do was make a vaguely encouraging noise. This was the closest to talking about real feelings, real wants, that he'd ever heard Clint get. It wasn't right to pounce just because the talking was turning him on.

"We get to choose how we grant people's wishes," Clint said. "And trust me, most people who summon demons because of a sex thing aren't people you want to get intimate with, even if you're not human. It's been a long time, a really fucking long time, since anyone I might actually want to have sex with summoned me. So if you're worried that I want to have sex because of a demon thing...don't. I stopped pretending about two hours after you summoned me."

Phil's heart seemed to miss a beat. The wide-eyed look Clint sent him made the air catch in his throat and his chest tightened, leaving him breathless and a little lightheaded.

There was honesty, and there was this; that startled, almost frightened look in Clint's eyes because the words he'd spoken were so real. So powerful.

So close to a declaration of something Phil hadn't even considered was possible.

"Clint," he said, and couldn't find any other words.

"I mean, you're pretty hot when you're doing that strict-librarian-with-glasses thing," Clint said, with a crooked grin that didn't fool Phil for a moment. "Got to say, I didn't know that was a real thing outside movies, but you can pull it off."

"Clint, that's not--"

Phil broke off when a red tail whipped out from under the covers and hooked around his neck, pulling him down to sprawl across Clint. His chin hit Clint's sternum, the impact jarring through his head and neck painfully.

Above him, Clint made a distressed sound. "Aw, tail, no."

Phil carefully lifted his head, tensing when it made his neck throb. His wrist was twisted painfully under him. "What happened?"

"Um." The muscles across Clint's chest rippled as he shrugged. "I was thinking about shutting you up with a kiss? And my tail kind of...anticipated. Badly. Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"Not badly." Phil tried to roll his head, and hissed. "Or I could be wrong about that."

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"I'm not sure it works like that," Phil said.

"Trust me, I can make it work."

There was warmth and a hint of shyness in Clint's voice. Phil blamed the unexpected combination for why he allowed Clint to help him roll onto his back, gritting his teeth as twinges of pain shot through his head and neck with every movement.

A soft smile lurked at the corners of Clint's mouth as he slowly traced a line along Phil's jaw with the tip of one finger. Warmth spread out from the touch, easing away the headache Phil hadn't even been aware of until it was gone. Clint leaned down and their lips met in a slow, almost chaste kiss. 

The knots in Phil's neck loosened and the ache in his shoulders melted away as Clint dragged his lips over Phil's jaw, kissing and sucking at the skin until Phil's breath caught for reasons that had nothing to do with pain.

A feather-light touch at Phil's waist made him gasp. Clint was holding himself up with both hands, so it had to be his tail slipping under the hem of Phil's t-shirt to slowly trace patterns over his ribs. Ripples of healing warmth radiated out from that touch, relieving the aching, strained muscles underneath. Phil tilted his head back as Clint moved down to kiss his neck, and he groaned when Clint grazed the skin with his teeth.

Somewhere in the distance, something was ringing.

Clint's tail brushed over Phil's nipple, and his hips twitched in response. He wasn't even aware that he was tugging at Clint's t-shirt until his fingertips found hot, smooth skin, and Clint made a happy sound that vibrated against Phil's throat.

The ringing was getting louder.

"Shouldn't you get that?" Clint mumbled against his throat.

Phil blinked, pulling himself out of the happy haze of sensation he'd fallen into. The ringing. It was his phone.

Oh.

"Probably," he said.

There was obvious reluctance when Clint lifted his head. His lips were plump and wet, and Phil was tempted to ignore the phone in favour of pulling Clint down into another kiss.

The ringing didn't stop. It occurred to Phil that the phone had been ringing for a long time without going to voice mail. That wasn't normal.

When he stretched out and grabbed the phone from his nightstand, he understood. The caller ID was for Fury.

This couldn't be good.


End file.
